


A Kinga Carol

by Paycheckgurl



Category: A Christmas Carol - Fandom, Mystery Science Theater 3000
Genre: Alternate Universe - A Christmas Carol Fusion, Angst, Backstory, Canonical Character Death, Christmas, Christmas Angst, Emotional Abuse, Gen, Ghosts, Humor, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Parody, Post-Season/Series 12, no one asked for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-23 07:45:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17076236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paycheckgurl/pseuds/Paycheckgurl
Summary: Kinga’s Holiday cruelness lands her a visit from three spirits. She’s pretty annoyed at the cliche.





	1. Stave one

“You’re seriously sending us another Christmas movie?” Tom Servo moved his gumball machine body back and forth in a way that communicated disbelief.

“Was the _Christmas That Almost Wasn’t_ not enough for you?!” exclaimed Crow.

Kinga rubbed her hands together.

“So you may have noticed, robots, that Netflix is embracing a new trend, by bringing back an old tradition: the stand alone Christmas special. There’s a stand-alone Christmas episode of _Chilling Adventures of Sabrina,_ of _Bojack Horseman_ ….And wouldn’t you know it? We just so happen to have the perfect platform and programming to capitalize on it! We’re giving the people a Christmas Special they’ll actually watch on Christmas. And you said I didn’t know anything about streaming! Ha!”

“That’s because it was my idea,” said Synthia.

“Don’t speak unless I tell you to!” snapped Kinga.

“Anyways it’s a great opportunity to expand the brand and get it out in front of Disney if they want to make a buyout offer. I can see those sweet, sweet Disney Dollars now!”

Max made the mistake of tiptoeing up with a large wrapped box at that very moment, and something poorly hidden behind his back in his hand. Kinga didn’t even waste time taking the box, and casually throwing it to the other side of the moonbase where it made a loud, cartoonish, clunk.

“No,” she said plainly.

It was a simple statement but her tone was sharp, and it sent Max into a whimper. He dropped the something in his hand, which looked to be a sprig of mistletoe. Kinga went the extra mile and stepped on it, squishing it every which way under her boot.

“Uh guys,” whispered Jonah to the bots up on the satellite. “She’s clearly in a Mood. Maybe we should ask a little later?”

Gypsum slithered next to them. “But she’ll get even madder if we spend an entire host segment during the movie asking. Let’s just get it out of the way now.”

Jonah attempted to flash a big smile as he gave the pitch despite his reservations. “Uh Kinga, before the invention exchange I think the bots have a special request? Crow?”

“Um well you see your queenly-ness...” began Crow.

“Well this is rich,” said Kinga with an eye roll. “What do you want?” 

“Well we saw Joel on the tour (and well it sucks that he was there because you decided to re-kidnapped him and forced him to tour the country with us)...I mean, uh, as grateful as we are that you uh, gave us the tremendous opportunity to see Joel, yeah that’s it, we were hoping to make a request? Since you let us see Joel we were wondering uh, if in the spirit of the holidays, you’d maybe, let us video chat a Merry Christmas in for Mike?”

“You can market it as a cameo!” said Servo jumping in. “You know for the nostalgic nerds that like that sort of thing! The fan base will go crazy! You saw how they reacted to Joel being with us on the tour, and you have to see how many people are Mike stans on the Internet! I think. Maybe. You don’t actually let us use the internet. Heck, Joel and Mike spend the holidays together usually. Maybe it’ll be a twofer and you’ll get a cameo of both of them together?”

Kinga actually looked like she was considering for half a second. She had that look she got when she was seeing potential dollar signs. But then her stare turned icy.

“So you can signal them an escape plan? Absolutely not. I’m not risking the profits I’ll lose if I don’t have you enslaved.”

“Oh come on!” exclaimed Crow. “If we had some kind of grand escape plan worked out with them we would have implemented while we on Earth. We just...really want to see Mike.”

Crow didn’t exactly admit when he liked people. But the hopeful little way his beak opened telegraphed to pretty much anyone “please just let me have this one thing and I just want to see my family for a second on the holiday.”

“Forget it. Now are you done wasting time? I don’t even have time to show off my instant gift unwrapper. Your movie today is _Christmas In Hollywood_. A vanity project that could not look any less Hollywood if it tried. Flush them the movie!”

Jonah and the bots emerged from the movie tried and worn down. The effects in the film were bad and often unnecessary. And being from a newer film, they weren’t even practical effects Jonah could marvel at, but badly rendered computer graphics. Not even Growler’s new Christmas carol offering could completely cheer them up. The movie containment ceremony ended and Crow and Servo quietly, but pointedly  stormed to the bed chambers. Jonah was pretty sure that once they got in there he heard Tom begin to cry, and Crow begin to scream in frustration.

Against better judgement Jonah tapped on the counsel.

“Kinga? Hey you there?”

“Show’s over Heston, move it!”

“Right. Can you maybe reconsider about calling Mike? You can still use it as like a YouTube short or something even though the episode ended, and you can monitor to whole thing to make sure they’re not trying something. I promise they’re not. I promise _I’m_ not.”

“Hmmm. Well see the thing is Jonah I have a position of power over you. And you just don’t seem to respect it. Does that theater you trapped us into ring a bell?”

“Does _six movies in a row_ mean anything to you?” he countered and then stopped, changing course.

 “Look Kinga this really isn’t about me. Or you. It’s about the bots. Like 95 percent of the time they’re perfectly fine playing along. You know that. I know that. It’s the other five percent that should have us both worried. There’s not a lot they ask for (well seriously ask for) and there’s no show without them. You know that, I can build as many bots as I want, but without them Cambot, Gypsum, Tom Servo, and  Crow I will literally go insane. And not in the TV gold, entertaining flip out ,kind of way. In the, you will literally not have a show, kind of way. Please Kinga. Mike and Joel, they’re the only family they have. They just want to call in quick enough to say hi.”

“They’re robots. They’ll get over it, and if they don’t I’ll reprogram them to and wipe they’re memory banks of it while I’m at it. Despite what the song may say they’re not here to keep you sane: they’re here to make me money. And they’ll continue to do that without making that stupid phone call. Now cut it out Heston, if you want them to even remember they ever made the request.”

Kinga it’s _Christmas.”_

She crossed her arms.

“Bah humbug.”

Jonah couldn’t help but mumble “I can’t believe she literally said the thing.”

* * *

 

Kinga stormed off to the corner of Moon 13. Logically given the turn of events things were going to take she should have probably stormed off to her bedroom, but the corner of Moon 13 was spookier looking and didn’t require the construction of a new set.

“I hate this holiday!” She screams to no one in particular.

She stood by the giant heart shaped door when she saw thought she heard footsteps, and rattling like a chain.

“Ardy!” She screamed. “If that’s you go walk that ridiculous dog of yours somewhere else!”

She turned around and there was no one there. The footsteps got louder.

“Seriously! Bonehead #2 wear slippers or something!”

There wasn’t a bonehead in sight.

“Jeeze,” she said aloud. “I must have had some bad canned Wasil. I guess you really should pay attention to expiration dates. At least when they get past the 200 year mark. ”

“Kinga. Kinga Forrester!” wailed a voice.

“Who’s That? Who’s there?”

“Kinga Forrester!” said the voice again. It was haunting at first. And then familiar.

She felt a lump in her throat as she managed to call out to the ghostly aspiration in front of her.

“Dad?”

Before her stood an iridescent man. Despite the strange glow of him there was no mistaking it was one Dr. Clayton Forrester. He was wearing is trademark bright green lab coat and glasses. His hair was wild and went every which direction, and a familiar white streak ran through it. He looked older and more tired than Kinga remembered. But it was clearly him.

He was also wearing a large set of chains.

“Oh sweetheart, look at you!”

“Daddy!” She exclaimed.

“Oh honey! Look at you,” he repeated. “My little girl’s all grown up and a Mad Scientist all in her own right.”

Kinga couldn’t help but beam at him. And then it all began to hit her.

“But...Daddy. Why are you here? You’re...you’re dead. We spread your ashes with Doctor Erhert.”

“Oh he did that finally? Took him long enough.”

“He said he was on a journey of self discovery a while ago.”

“Ah is that what he’s calling it.” Clayton rolled his eyes. “So here’s the deal sweetheart, I’m here to tell you that these chains represent my sins in my life,” said Dr Forrester.

“Chains. Oh no. Are we doing…?”

Clayton sighed. “Unfortunately. Yes. We’re doing that.”

“God that’s so lame.”

“Seriously. Look Kinga I’m going to be honest I’m so proud of you!”

“Really?”  Kinga sounded hopeful.

“You’ve committed yourself to realizing my life’s work! Of course I’m proud of you! But...do you have to be so greedy about it?”

“What?!”

“Kinga you should be practicing Mad Science for Mad Science’s sakes. Not to make a buck! World domination, sure. But world domination through money Kinga, seriously? Make no mistake I’m proud of you, but I have to agree with the Spirit Council that your motivations are a bit...corrupted. Also I’m supposed to tell you about how I was a sinner in life and now I carry that weight and the whole time, and how torturing your test subject is wrong in the first place or something. But eh, honestly the money part is the only thing I take issue with. The rest comes from the suits at the Spirit Council and I could care less about it. Also, these aren’t even real chains. They’re a prop to scare you straight. They’re plastic. Weigh less than a pound.” 

He took them off and swung them around to demonstrate.

“Anyways honey, you know the drill. Three spirits. Past, present, and yet to come will visit tonight. They’ll show you visions. You’ve seen _Mickey’s Christmas Carol_ , _The Muppet Christmas Carol_ , and _Scrooged_ , right? It’s that.”

And then her Dad disappeared in a puff of smoke. The only sound heard throughout Moon 13 was that of an echoing grandfather clock. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally wanted Jonah and the bots to watch a version of A Christmas Carol but there’s really no feature length, live action one that’s worthy of getting the Mst3k treatment (that I know of anyways). From what I can tell Christmas in Hollywood has a rule of threes thing going for it which eh, good enough. Especially since next chapter we’re getting on the nose with it anyways.


	2. Stave Two

Kinga heard the clock strike one. She didn’t remember it being anywhere as late as that. Or owning a grandfather clock that could make that sound.

“Kinga Forrester,” said a voice. It both very deadpan and very familiar.

Kinga looked up in surprise.

“Joel Robinson? Wait a minute you’re dead?!”

“What? No. There’s three hosts and three spirits so thematically and aesthetically we kind of couldn’t resist. We three spirits took their form. To be honest it's artist license, less ripped straight from Dickens and more ripped from bad TV specials that do this kind of thing. But eh, we weren’t really playing this that straight as adaptation to begin with.”

“So you’re not really Joel. You’re just some random spirit that looks, sounds, and acts like him...because the spirits noticed there were three hosts and couldn’t resist playing with that.”

“Yep more or less exactly what I just said, yes. I guess it could have also worked with three of the bots too, but eh. Repeat to yourself it’s just a show, I should really just relax.”

Kings rolled her eyes. “Fine. Ghost of Christmas Past. Joel. Not-Joel. Whoever you are. Let’s get this over with.”

The ghost wearing Joel’s face snapped his fingers.

“Deep 13. 13 floors underneath The Gizmonic Institute. Really takes me back.”

“I thought you said you weren’t really Joel,” said Kinga.   

“I’m getting into character, just go with it for simplicity’s sake,” said the spirit. “We’ve already spent entirely too long going over this.”

Kinga looked around, the familiar setting finally getting to her. She was back in the cavernous underground lair she had called home for years (separate and distinct from the one she currently called home). And right there, was well...her. The tiny little red headed girl of an ambiguous age stood next to her father, her hair in pigtails held up with small purple scrunchies.

“Well Kinga, now that unpleasantness that is _Santa Claus Conquers the Martians_ is done, let’s read a bedtime story. Max! Frank! Get over here!”

Max and TV’s Frank made their way over to Clayton and sat criss-cross applesauce on the ground. They watched with rapt attention.

Clayton picked up a dusty copy of, of all things, _A Christmas Carol_ , and began to read. “Now remember children,” said Clayton. “This is just a story. If you’re given instructions on how to be a better person from random ghosts don’t it. It’s all just peer pressure and bullying to make you confirm to a particular worldview.”

Joel, or rather the spirit borrowing his image, sighed. “I have to work with this? Seriously?”

Kinga wasn’t paying attention to that little bit of irony however. She was paying attention to Max. She cuddled up to him, casually rested her wee little head on his shoulder. He casually rubbed his arm on hers.

After a moment the spirit caught on to what she watching.

“I forgot how close I was with Max,” she admitted. “Back when we were little.”

Joel snapped his fingers.

* * *

They were in Deep 13 again. Only the atmosphere was very different. Kinga was slightly older. Her pigtails were replaced with a single ponytail. And she was crying.

“But TV’s Frank always comes back whenever Dad murders him!” her younger self muttered.

“Well not this time Kinga,” said Pearl. Like she often was when she dealt with Kinga, she was exasperated.

Her father was upset, and seemed hurt. “He’s been gone for two months! Why on Earth did you think he was coming back _now.”_

 _“_ Because it’s Christmas...and people come back on Christmas to be together.”

“Kinga, honey you’re too old to believe in nonsense like that. CLAYTON! What on Earth are you teaching her?”

“Yes well things haven’t exactly been easy around here, Mother…” he explained awkwardly.

“Well is Max coming?” asked Kinga. “He’s not dead.”

“Oh Kinga,” said her father sadly.

“I’ll handle this Clayton,” said her grandmother. “The truth is Kinga, Max doesn’t want to come to home for Christmas.”

“Mother…” came a voice of protest, but it was shut down.

“Sometimes people we think love us move on with their lives. Or didn’t mean it when they said they loved us in the first place. Your only family is your blood Kinga. Remember that.”

“You’re lying!” shouted Kinga. “What did you do with Max?”

“Kinga Forrester, I am your grandmother. Don’t you dare, ever speak to me in that tone. I know your father is worthless, and a failure but I’m not seeing that he raised you to be too.”

“Ouch,” said Joel.

“Wait,” the older Kinga called to her past self.

“They can’t hear you,” said Joel.

The younger Kinga stormed out crying. She repeated “she’s wrong, she’s wrong, she’s wrong…”

At the strike of midnight Max never showed up.

“Mother, why couldn’t you have just told her he’s being raised by his grandparents now and that they’re trying to convince him to leave Mad Science?” said Clayton just barely out of earshot of the younger Kinga the next room over.

“Because Clayton if she doesn’t learn to toughen up now she never will. Clearly relying on Frank did you no favors. It’s about time she learn to rely on herself.”

The older Kinga made a choked sound. “I...I didn’t know. I thought he just...didn’t want to find me. Can we please go anywhere but here?” They changed scenes again.

* * *

This time Kinga was in a boarding school. Alone. Sitting at an empty desk as a stern looking woman in a lab coat and an eye patch crossed her arms, and skeptically eyed her.

“I was always left at boarding school alone over the holidays,” said Kinga. “When Dad died...Grandma Pearl didn’t want me. When she was even in the same timeline and galaxy.”

“That teacher is really staring you down,” said Joel.

“I had a tendency to escape and try and spend time with Grandma Pearl anyways,” said Kinga. “Whenever I actually managed to find her somehow she’d strand me on some random planet or something, and then arrange to have me sent right back here: Dr. Murik’s School for Mad Scientist’s Evil Daughters.”

“Well that’s...certainly a specific educational program,” said Joel.

“They had a fast track into the Gizmonic Institute. A lot their graduates got full scholarships.”

“That explains a lot,” said Joel with an eyeroll.

“And it meant she could run off across time and space to torture Mike and the bots. Without me getting in the way just out of frame in the background.”

“Look your past is so messed up I’m just going to let this play out and not even going to bother pointing out how eerily this whole boarding school thing can easily mimic the original story,” said Joel.  

The door burst open.

“Max?” Asked the younger Kinga.

“Kinga! Your grandmother wants you to come home for the holiday! She invited us both!”

“Wait a minute, the hell?” said the younger Kinga.

The teacher let out a coughed protest of “language, Forrester!”

“I haven’t seen you for years! Where have you been all this time?”

“Eden Prairie. With my grandparents. I was trying to find you…”

Kinga seemed to look up at Max in disbelief.

“You mean you were right down the road _the entire time_! I didn’t go anywhere, Max! I was in Deep 13, our home...and then I was here. Sometimes I was with Grandma Pearl in another galaxy or time period...but usually I was right fricking here!”

“Kinga. It’s alright. Come home with me. Please.”

The younger Kinga looked like she was ready to cry. And then she noticeably bit her bottom lip.

“Don’t ever me leave me again!” She shouted. And shoved Max.

“Kinga are you crying?”

Her voice sounded choked. “Of course not! Now do what I say! And what I say is follow me home!”

Kings grabbed Max by the arm and dragged him along with her.

“That’s...not quite how the scene with Scrooge’s sister goes,” said Joel. “Also...you’re emotionally abusive to Max to hide your own abandonment issues? That’s really not okay.”

“Aren’t you supposed to just show me scenes of my life and let me reach my own conclusions?”

“Look I’m going to be really honest here. First like you’ve read this book. It’s actually pretty heavy handed. Like incredibly so. Second, you’re really up a creek and there’s not actually a lot we can do here. But if you insist...you know yourself well enough to know what the next scene is? Don’t you?”

Joel snapped his fingers again.

* * *

 It was the same day but later that night. And the older Kinga knew exactly what she was about to be forced to relive.

“Oh Kinga! Max! I’m so glad you made it,” said Pearl. Her midwestern accent was particularly strong in the statement. Which usually meant she was being insincere.

“Really?” asked Kinga. Despite herself.

“Of course Kinga. I’ve got a special Christmas present just for you.”

And there: stood another Pearl Forrester. She was not looking forward or very alert. Her hands went every which direction in that weird little robotic movement. The younger Kinga looked on in disbelief.

“What,” she managed. “Is that.”

“Meet Synthia. My clone. I know you want affection and love and food and clothes and honestly Kinga I’m just not good at that. So now you don’t have to bother me. You can bother Synthia!”

“It’s nice to meet you Granddaughter-Kinga Daughter of Son of Creator-Handshaker Person,” declared Synthia in a broken slur.

“She’s...honestly not my best work. And since I’m working on getting my Mad Science certificate it’s probably best if you weren’t around where the board could find her…also Max is back! You have Max and Synthia. That’s all you need, right? Merry Christmas!”

The younger Kinga just stood in shock. And then she decided to shove Max. And then shove Synthia. Because weakness was wrong. But anger, anger wasn’t weakness.

Joel snapped his fingers once again.

* * *

There was tinsel in the background, and a sad little mini tree. But there wasn’t any other indicator that it was Christmas. 

“I’m going to do it Max. I’m going to do what I should have done years ago. We’re restarting The Experiment.”

“The Experiment? The Experiment, Experiment?”

“What other Experiment, Max? Mystery Science Theater 3000! I’m going to bring back honor to the Forrester name! And I know exactly how!”

On top of Kinga’s books at the Gizmonic Institute stood a peculiar book that didn’t really have anything to do with science or gizmos, mad or otherwise.

_Synergy and Branding: How to Rule the World through Organizational Structure and Media_

“I knew that corporate communications class would come in handy! It’s so simple, Max. We still experiment on a guy, but we don’t have to wait for the movies to drive him insane. We take the TV Show aspect and rule the world through that! Dad sold the rights to Comedy Central for extra cash, and had Joel read those fan letters, but the fandom was always an afterthought. We just have to tap into streaming and audience engagement. We’re going to honor my father and yours!”

“Well since we’re honoring our families’ legacies I think it’s time I took my father’s name: from now on call me TV’s Son of TV’s Frank!”

“Absolutely not.”

“But…”

“No, _Max._ ”

“We’ll work on that later. Oh Kinga this is the best Christmas gift you could have given me! I’m so excited!”

“Forgot Christmas this year Max! We have work to do! This project is going to require start up capital and in case you haven't noticed we’re grad students,” she threw Max the book and a retro adding machine with printable paper.

“Your Grandmother is kind of loaded,” pointed out Max.

“And she isn’t going to help us. We have to prove our worth to her. So start crunching some numbers. And blow up my brand! We need to work through the night! Now!”

* * *

 Joel snapped his fingers one last time. It was a year later. They were now holed up in a small apartment.

“Kinga,” said Max. “You’ve been working on that for months. It’s been a year since you decided to bring the experiment back. Please just take some time to celebrate the holiday.”

Kinga was poring over an oversized Netflix contract, and reading up on several thousand printed pages on Kickstarter crowdfunding.

“Oh Christmas! Perfect!”

Max lit up.

“We can do a Christmas episode. We’d need tinsel and lights and Santa hats. Max! Put an order in!”

“But what about this Christmas, Kinga?” asked Max.

“This Christmas there’s work to do! _Mystery Science Theater_ isn’t going to revive itself!”

“Please Kinga. Let’s just spend time together. Like when we were kids,”

“We aren’t kids anymore.”

“Kinga you know that I will follow you to ends of the Earth. To ends of the galaxy. And that more than anything I want to honor our families legacies. But you used to love this holiday! And I don’t want to see the experiment destroy you! Like it destroyed our fathers.”

“Which is why I have to work Max! I’m not Grandma Pearl! I’m not my Dad! I’m going to succeed where they failed! And Grandma Pearl will have to respect me for it!”

“I respect you Kinga. Isn’t that enough?”

“No Max! That will never be enough!”

He was quiet. “Merry Christmas Kinga.” he whispered. He wasn’t looking at Kinga’s face. He was looking at a framed picture of them from when they were younger. Kinga had let it gather dust on the desk.

Joel looked at the older Kinga, who stood with her mouth agape. “You said you wanted to draw your conclusions. Draw your own conclusions from that,” said Joel.

“Just let me go home!” yelled Kinga. And then before she knew it she was stirring in front of the heart shaped door.


	3. Stave Three

Kinga woke up and realized she had been asleep in front of the heart shaped door. The clock struck one. Even though she was pretty sure it had already done that. She stirred some more and realized who was in front of her.

“Jonah? What the heck are you doing down here?”

“I’m the Ghost of Christmas Present! See my crown and the jolly the red coat I have over this yellow jumpsuit? Did Christmas Past not commit to the Joel thing?”

“No. He did. We’re not going in order though? Joel, Mike, and then Jonah?”

“Eh. Well Jonah is currently your present. Plus the Ghost of Christmas Present is traditionally a big guy with facial hair and well,” Jonah, or rather the ghost borrowing his form, gestured downward to indicate his large frame. And then rubbed a hand over his stubble for good measure.

Kinga’s annoyed eye roll could be seen from other galaxies.

“Fine let’s get this over with. Scenes of everyone talking about how happy they are without me there messing up their Christmas cheer, and how I’m an awful person, right?”

Jonah took Kinga by the hand. The two flew above the moon and into space, and finally they landed aboard the Satellite of Love.

“Hey guys, sorry about earlier,” said Jonah, the real Jonah. He was sitting with the bots on the lower bunk bed, Crow and Tom were on either side of him. Cambot was nearby in their mobile unit form. Gypsum slithered from the ceiling.

“You tried,” said Tom. “It wasn’t nearly good enough, but you tried.”

Crow just looked downwards. “I can’t believe it’s been two Christmases that we’ve been stuck up here again.”

Gypsum sighed. “I’ve been trying not to think about that.”

“Well at least we have each other?” said Jonah hopefully.

“Great. Wonderful. Merry Christmas all of you,” said Tom sarcastically.

Just then M Waverly stumbled in. He was limping and using crutches to support himself.

“Jonah did you get my leg replacement 3D printed yet?” he asked.

“Not yet, M Waverly. I need some replacement parts for the printer and Kinga hasn’t sent them up yet.”

Kinga sighed. “Was the Tiny Tim reference really necessary? Waverly’s a robot. He’s been completely destroyed and rebuilt before, he’ll be fine. They’re all just robots (well except for Jonah and half the time he’d rather just be with robots).”

“Are you sure about that?” said the ghost in Jonah’s image.

“I know how you guys feel,” said the real Jonah. “I haven’t seen my brother in ages. We used to fight as kids a lot. But you know how brothers are.”

“Nope don’t know anything about,” said Crow. “But I can imagine it’s a bit like having to deal with someone that barely carries their own weight despite the ability to fly and won’t stop singing in the shower even though we can all hear him. And even though he doesn’t even need to shower.”

“Yeah or someone that won’t stop leaving his stupid script pages all over the place and snores.”

“I do not snore!”

“Then explain why your snoring wakes me up every night!”

The two began trying to shove each other despite being over arms length away.

“What I meant,” said Jonah, in an obvious attempt to break whatever that was up, “is that even though you get on each other’s nerves and tease each other, at the end of the day you love them a lot.”

Crow and Tom seemed to have decided to make up in the moment.

“Well I guess that doesn’t sound so bad...you know they could help you plan pranks on your big, scruffy roommate,”

“Yeah! Hey wait a minute!” said Jonah.

“Or help you when you get stuck in the vent,” said Tom in a bit of a mumble to hide the fact he was admitting that happened pretty frequently.

“Or you know just kind of be there for you,” said Crow.

“They might be a total klutz and a bit of a disaster, but you love them. Want them around. They care for you and stuff,” said Tom.

“And they might be far away and unable to contact them, but you just kind of have to take it on faith that they know you’re thinking about them on the holiday?”

The two clearly weren’t talking about each other anymore.

“Merry Christmas guys,” said Jonah in a quiet voice.

* * *

The ghost took Kinga by the hand. They flew towards Earth. Through the stars. The blue planet stood in the distance, as the stars twinkled around her.

“It’s beautiful,” she admitted, mostly to herself. “I know I can kind of take space for granted. I never liked the stars it just...reminded me that Grandma Pearl was there and wasn’t with me. And that Dad got turned into a Star Baby.”

Before she knew it they were on Earth.

Joel and Mike were sitting together on a plaid couch in a living room. There were Christmas decorations strung up but it all looked a little half hearted. As if someone had started the process and just decided it wasn’t worth the effort part way through. No one had bothered with the backside of the tree, and the tinsel hung just a little too low.

A snow storm raged outside the window. Joel was sipping a mug of what Kinga assume was hot chocolate, given the marshmallows that were peaking out of it. Mike was opening Christmas cards, scanning over them. He was staring at one involving a picture of some small blonde children on a sled.

“I didn’t even know I had a cousin Danny,” said Mike. “Let alone that he had a wife and three kids. And my address.”

Joel just shrugged. “Your parents might have given them a copy of their address book.”

Mike sagged his shoulders. “I kind of didn’t send any cards out myself. I usually just use those department store pictures you make the bots take but…”

Joel casually put a comforting hand on Mike’s shoulder. “I understand.”

“I’m just glad you got to spend time with them,” said Mike.

Joel looked at him “I am too. I could have done without the captivity, so you know, glad you didn’t have to put up with that part.”

“It’s dumb,” said Mike. “But I kind of wish I had just gone along with it. I’m sure I’d eat those words one performance in but, you know. Just to check in with them would be nice. Apologize to the bots…”

“Mike you’re not the one that needs to apologize to them.”

Mike rolled his eyes just ever so slightly. “And we’ve been through the fact you have nothing to feel guilty about either.”

Joel shifted his weight on the couch cushion a bit. “For two people that keep telling each other we have nothing to feel guilty about...there’s a lot of guilt here right now.”

There was a knock on the door. Both Joel and Mike looked at each other in confusion. They clearly weren’t expecting someone in the middle of a snowstorm on Christmas Eve.

Mike was eyeing a baseball bat next to the door as he carefully made his way over to the doorframe and looked out the peephole.

“You’re going to your brother’s place tomorrow, they’re not coming here, right?” asked Joel.

Mike nodded and picked up the bat as he answered the door.

“Hello?”

His visitor seemed to notice the bat, looking for a second, but didn’t draw attention to it.

“Joel Robinson? Mike Nelson?” he asked.

Mike blinked. “Yeah?”

The man in the doorway was tall with dark hair and dark eyes. He was noticeably sun kissed, in a way approximately no one in Minnesota was at this time of year.

“You don’t know me, but you know my brother,” said the man. “My brother Jonah Heston he’s uh, the host of Mystery Science Theater.”

Mike dropped the bat in surprise.

“My name’s Daniel. Uh...I flew over here because the Gizmonic Institute called and said they were going to look into another way to get him back. Or I thought that’s what it was about anyways.”

“Not on my watch,” muttered Kinga. The ghost stared her in judgement. Which considering that Jonah face of his was a tad annoying, as if the real Jonah were showing her that level of insubordination.

“But it ended up being a waste of my time,” said Daniel. “Turns out I got all the way here, right before Christmas, and what the people in charge of that actually wanted to talk to us about, they were really just...basically saying they were going to give up. Some guy torched the main campus a few months ago and with the repair costs they just can’t afford the rescue mission.

But I looked up you guys in the phone book...turns out they still have those...and I just really wanted to talk to you because well…”

“Say no more and come in,” said Joel.

Mike nodded. “Coat closet is over there. You’re jacket’s soaking wet.”

“This was a dumb idea,” said Daniel. “I shouldn't be bothering you guys. Especially not tonight. You probably have plans and I have no idea what even wanted to talk about or why I even...I should really be driving back to my motel…”

“You drove here?!” Said Joel. “In this?! You guys are from Hawaii, right? Jonah was telling me when we were forced to do that tour together. Do you even know how to drive in snow?”

“I grew up in Wisconsin and even I’m not planning on driving in this tonight,” added Mike.

Daniel hunched his shoulders to make himself a little shorter. Kinga was aware it was a habit Jonah also had.

“I don’t even actually know what I wanted to talk to guys about,” said Daniel. “Not exactly.”

Mike led him to the couch. “Look. No one knows better than the two of us how much everything about that experiment is awful,” said Mike. “And how much everything the Forrester family has ever touched is complete poison.”

“And what it’s like for your family to be there one day and just...not be there the next,” added Joel. “I couldn’t even bring myself to watch your brother’s season when it dropped. The bots not being here but knowing where they were and that we couldn’t get to them, that was worse,” admitted Joel.

“Yeah that’s a feeling I’m familiar with,” said Daniel.

“So first, here’s what I’m going to tell you,” said Joel. “Don’t give up. If Gizmonic is officially not going to do anything, I will. It’ll just take some more time.”

“Second,” said Mike. “It’s Christmas. We’re not letting you go back out in that. Come in and stay awhile. Joel go get him a cup of SwissMiss.”

Daniel took the cup of coco stared at it. As if he wasn’t sure what to say.

“Family sticks together,” said Joel authoritatively. He offered Daniel a handshake. “Welcome to extended family.”

* * *

The ghost took Kinga by the hand again. They went back through the stars and down to the dark side of the moon. She wasn’t exactly sure how to process the last scene.

Moon 13 was lit up and festive. Kinga didn’t exactly remember approving that merriment. She scowled particularly hard.

The boneheads were engaged in a particularly intense looking game of charades. Bonehead #2 made a dollar bill motion, and then shook a fist.

“Kinga! That is definitely Kinga!” declared Dr. Saint Phibes excitedly.

Everyone laughed.

“Oh god, where is our resident Scrooge anyways?” asked Synthia.

“I saw her passed out over there somewhere earlier,” said Bonehead #1. He gestured towards the general direction of the heart door. “Probably had too much eggnog.”

“Just as well,” said Synthia. She was learning on Bonehead #1 just ever so slightly. “Who needs her here putting a damper on things?”

“I give you the ability to think for yourself and that’s how you repay me?” said Kinga through gritted teeth.

“She still can’t hear you,” reminded the ghost in that all too-cheery Jonah voice. “Wow your face right now looks just like Rickey’s impression!”

Kinga gritted her teeth some more.

“Come on now,” said Max. “It’s Christmas! Let’s all raise a toast in honor of Kinga! Our wonderful Queen of Media!”

Everyone burst out into laughter, except for Max.

“Oh god that’s the funniest thing ever you’ve said!” laughed Terry.

“Here’s to Kinga!” called Bonehead 142. “She might be responsible for giving life to about 95 percent of us here...and that’s the nicest thing we can say about her!”

“To Kinga!” called the others in jest. As Max frowned.

“Come on Max,” said Synthia. “Why are you always so hung up on her? She’s not going to change. Literally all she cares about is herself and the financial success of the show. You can do your whole loyal second banana schicht as much as you want, and she’s never going to care about you back. Why do you even bother?”

“I don’t know, maybe it is hopeless,” said Max. “But a big part of me thinks, no, a big part of me knows, that deep down inside she’s capable of changing. That there’s still hope for her.”

“Wishful thinking,” said Synthia. 

Kinga crossed her arms. Alright. I get it. Can I go home now? Let me go home!”

She was in front of the door again. There was no trace of the spirit or of the party she’d witnessed in sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonehead #142 is a blink and you miss it reference to Speccy’s Bonehead OC Gabby.


	4. Stave Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So because what they say about Great Minds and all that, shout out to cutielemon07 whose story No Tears Left to Cry also has a Christmas Carol motif and uses a character I use here in the Christmas Yet to Come bit (I swear I planned for over a week ago, although the very ending of this chapter ended up a little differently than I was thinking it would). 
> 
> So I’m not a complete zombie tomorrow morning and have some time to edit, the final ‘stave’ will be posted tomorrow. 
> 
> Merry Christmas everyone!

The clock struck midnight. Which didn’t seem possible because it already struck one.

Kinga was starting to get a bit scared. And when she was scared, she lashed out. She looked at the spirit.

“You’re seriously going to do the whole Christmas Future bit as Mike Nelson? Well this project is doomed to fail because no matter how many worlds he’s destroyed, that’s hilarious. You might as well be leading me with a puppy.”

The spirit made that little half, sarcastic chuckle Mike was fond of. “I’m a spirit but I’m not the spirit. The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come is over there,” the ghost borrowing Mike’s image pointed over to a cloaked figure. Kinga couldn’t see the figure’s features. And he didn’t speak.

“The one that doesn’t talk,” said Kinga.

“Correct,” said Mike. “Figured I’d be along for the ride to translate. Christmas Past and Present told me you’re a little slow on the uptake with actually getting the lessons you’re supposed to out of this .”

“You know whose face you’re wearing, right?” snapped Kinga. “That’s kind of ironic coming from you like that. Let’s just get this over with.”

The two followed the cloaked figure. They were on the moon, but it was different. It had been picked over, as if someone were preparing for it to no longer exist.

“What do we do with all of this stuff?” said a woman in a tight fitting NASA shirt.

Her counterpart, another woman with her hair neatly arranged in a long ponytail, and wearing a long lab coat, looked at her.

“We could sell it off, there’s certainly fans that would want it and I think that’s what happened to a lot of the props and wreckage from the original experiment,” said the one with the ponytail.

“It just seems so...wrong,” said the one in the T-shirt. “We shouldn’t be capitalizing on this the way she did. Especially now that…” she trailed off.

“It’s more valuable than she was,” said the one with the ponytail. “I can’t wait until we can take this place back for research. Real research. Not whatever this was.”

“Well at least some good to come out of this,” said the first one. “It was the final nail in the coffin for the Gizmonic Institute. Financially they’re not coming back from the legal fees. And just as well. That place did more harm than good.”

“I do feel bad for her test subject and those little robots though,” said the second one. “They didn’t deserve what happened to them.”

“Okay. Look, I’m dead. I get it!” exclaimed Kinga. “I got it. We’re good. As we’ve established, I’ve read this book. I’ve seen the half a billion adaptations, including the underdog favorite Flintstone's version. The unlikable Grinch whose stuff they’re stealing is me. Considering there’s only one Moon Base, it can literally only be me. The experiment killed me just like it killed my father. And Max’s father. And about half the people it touches. Can we be done yet?!”

‘Mike’ rolled his eyes. “We’re done when the guy in the scary hood says we’re done. Errr...signals that he’s done wordlessly. Just be quiet and watch it play out, okay?”

They walked further along Moon 13, and then down into Moon 14, the containment center. It had been gutted. There was almost nothing there aside from spills and it seemed hollow. A larger team of NASA employees than they saw before was grimly bagging everything up. Only they were Hazmat in suits like the one Ardy wore.

“Anyone beyond the tape has to have proper protection!” Called one of the suited figures. “This stuff she was streaming with is volatile and its spilled everywhere. It can explode any minute!”

“Why aren’t the Skeleton Crew or Ardy helping?” asked Kinga despite herself. “The Boneheads are immune to it and Ardy is specially trained in it. Sure he accidentally mutated a dog, but that worked out for him. He likes that the damn dog talks for some reason.”

The hooded figure, perhaps predictably, refused to acknowledge her.

“They’re gone,” said Mike. “This place is being cleaned up, including all of its inhabitants. Ardy aided you, so he’s an accessory.”

Kinga felt a lump in her throat. “What about the Boneheads?”

‘Mike’ raised an eyebrow in surprise, a gesture she’d seen the real one make many-a-time on the old tapes. It was unnerving how well each ghost managed to nail their respective host’s physical mannerisms.

“Weird that you care about them now all of sudden. I thought they were just there to make you a profit.”

“What happened?” demanded Kinga.

“Nothing as bad as you’re thinking,” said the Ghost. “Or I hope you’re thinking as a worst case scenario. They’ve been brought back to Earth. They’ll be test subjects. No genetic beings like them exist, ‘failed experiment’ as you put it or not.”

“But they’re not test subjects!” protested Kinga. “They have jobs to do!”

“Not anymore,” said Mike. “And are you implying all of your family’s test subjects didn’t have jobs and lives before you brought them up here?”

Kinga gaped a bit in surprise. The hooded ghost kept walking her somewhere. They were back upstairs. Near the remains of the God Monitor.

“And there’s really no way to get them off the cloud?” said a woman that looked to be a tech of sorts.

“No they’re memories are stuck there and the coding is all wonky,” said a shorter man besides her with glasses. “There’s no way to even attempt it without furthering corrupting their data. I hate to say it, but they really are a lost cause.”

“Poor little things. That Robinson guy must be devastated,” said the woman.

“Basically non responsive in grief from what I heard,” said the other. “The Nelson guy is just as bad off.”

“The bots? They’re talking about the bots? But how? They’re robots they should be fine!”

“There was an explosion on the satellite,” said Mike. It’s not clear what caused it. A movie’s Kinga Chrome stream, one of Jonah’s inventions, or an in process escape plan. Probably some combination of things. The bots’ bodies were destroyed. They went to transfer their conscious to the cloud, and well...they weren’t able to leave it. They’re as good as dead.”

It wasn’t the real Mike. As Kinga kept reminding herself. But he was tearing up as he said. His voice breaking.

“And Jonah?”

Mike didn’t respond. It was more than enough of an answer. The ghost beside him removed his hood.

There stood her former test subject, before the project had officially began. One Matt Claude Van Damme. She threw him out because he wasn’t profitable or marketable. And erased the bots memories of him. Because she was able to. To her knowledge he wasn’t dead. Just in an alternate pocket universe. But then to her recent knowledge she didn’t know that he was alive either. She’d stopped caring about him. Tried to remove him history as best she could to make the experiment flourish. To make a buck. 

And then stood more and more hooded figures. Who unmasked in front of her. They, unlike Matt, were not familiar ghosts from the not-too-distant past.

“Who are you?!” She demanded.

“The Forrester Legacy is failure,” said Mike. “Maybe you will have a legacy beyond this, but all it is, is more and more emotionally stunted would-be dictators and Mad Scientist failing to meet their goal. It always ends in failure.”

The ghosts behind Matt had white hair streaks, and buns and wore Greens. They weren’t her Grandmother or Father, but the resemblance was clearly there. One or two redheads stood out in the crowd. 

“The worst we can find,” they chanted together. The phrase had never sounded so sinister. 

She was on Earth of all a sudden, next to a gravestone that was long neglected and in disrepair. She saw a blonde woman standing over it. At first glance she thought it was Grandma Pearl...but it wasn’t. It was Synthia. She spit on the grave.

There was a single, pitiful, but new purple rose, laid on top.

“Poor Max, the only one ever loyal to end,” said Mike.

“No, no, no” Kinga repeated over and over.

“What’s the matter Kinga?” Said Mike. “I thought you said you knew this story?”

Kinga’s screams echoed through the graveyard. 


	5. Stave Five

Kinga screamed and screamed. And screamed. And then she realized she heard Jonah’s voice over the feed.

“And that, is the Christmas Caroler,” said Jonah trimputhantly in his presentation voice.

“Guaranteed to make any classic Scrooge riddled with subconscious guilt, riddled with regular conscious guilt,” said Servo.

“Also it strings popcorn onto garlands!” Proclaimed Crow. On the satellite Crow pressed a remote control which was making a device on Kinga’s head have popcorn stringing out of it. The device was a helmet of some kind. She didn’t remember putting it on.

“Yeah well, your dumb invention didn’t work,” said Kinga defensively. She threw the device on the ground dramatically. It messed up her neat bone and forced one of her chopsticks loose. “I haven’t changed. Ardy flush them the movie!”

“Uh,” said Max. “You didn’t present our side. Or introduce the film.”

Kinga blinked several times. “Right. Sorry. A bit of deja vu. Your movie today is…”

She gave the same spiel about that weird vanity project kids film.

“Max,” she managed. “Do we have any in particular planned for the final host segment?”

Max looked surprised. “I don’t think so. I think we were just going to film their gift exchange again.”

Kinga felt her hands shaking slightly. “Scrap that. Get Mike Nelson on the line, he’s calling in as a Christmas treat to them.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s...it’s a good way to get the Mike stans on the internet interested. Cameos sell. And a little birdy might have told me that, well, Joel Robinson might possibly also be around.”

Max blinked on in surprise. “That’s genius.”

“Of course, I came up with it.” She was trying very hard to remain smug in a wholly unearned way. Trying very hard to remain true to the character she’d built for herself l. If only to keep Jonah from having entirely too much satisfaction over another win against her. But she also knew what she saw. And what needed to change.

Movie Sign had already blared and Jonah and the bots were already in awe of stock footage clip art hastily thrown on top of stock street scenes of LA. Throwing riffs about PowerPoint and MS Paint. Exactly as she remembered them doing. Which meant, everything else could still play out the same. Unless she made some changes.

“Max,” she said. “Can we talk?”

Max visibly cringed. Maybe not the best word choice. “Uh, about what?”

“I’m not always...nice to you. Or fair. And I’m not those things to anyone...but I’m especially not nice, and especially not fair to you. A lot. And frankly I have no idea how you’ve put up with me all these years. I’m...I’m sorry.”

“Kinga,” he began. “You really don’t have to be sorry.”

“Yeah, that’s bull and you know it. I really do. I don’t even know how to start making it up to you, but I need to. And if I fuck it all up I need you to call me out on my bullshit. So I can be better to you. You deserve it.”

“Kinga…” began Max.

“You deserve so much better than me.”

It was the most honest she’d ever in years. “I can’t promise I can return the romantic side of things, and we shouldn’t even really go there in any real way until well, I can prove I’m not completely awful to you at all times. But...thank you. For being there.”

Max took her into a long hug.

“There’s a few more things I have to do before the next host segment,” said Kinga, slowly breaking the hug.

“Terry!” She barked. Bonehead #1 obienently marched forward.

“You called boss? And you, actually acknowledged my name?”

“Don’t pay attention to that,” she bristled. “I need you to run some checks on the Satellite of Love. I know you do them routinely and that Gypsum runs her own, but double them. And double them the safety checks of this place.”

Terry’s shoulders sagged.

“Since I’m giving you more work, I also need to give you some more days off. So spread the word. Bonehead and employee meeting two days from now on expanding the vacation package. And doubling your salary.”

“Uh, you don’t actually pay us,” said Terry.

“On starting your salary,” amended Kinga.

“Yes ma’ma!” He called happily.

Synthia marched in. And looked like she was about to bolt. Kinga sighed.

“We need to talk too,” she declared. “Sorry, I used you for a proxy for my baggage with Grandma Pearl. And then Algernon-ed you and made you all too aware of your morality. And abuse you on a regular basis.”

“You’re welcome?”

“Look you’re not Max and you’re going to accept my apology just because I said things. But I’m going to work on it. Also Terry has some days off coming up and you might want to turn that into a date night. Unsolicited advice to help you out.”

“Uhhh…”

“And do you maybe mind doing me a favor?”

“Uhhh…”

“Jonah needs some 3D printing materials. Send them up before the end of the movie. And send a giant turkey to them. Just don’t say it was from me.”

“Why?”

“It’s obligatory. Actually you know what, I think the point is that I’m supposed to send it to starving children or something but that’s way more work than willing to put in right now.”

“Oh god the invention actually worked, didn’t it?”

“Don’t tell anyone,” she said with a wince. “I know you really don’t have a use for money so I’ll figure out how to make it up to you for that favor specifically.”

“Credit is nice,” said Synthia.

“Credit?”

“You know for being the one who actually invents half the stuff around here these days. I don’t even need first billing or the profits. Just credit.”

Kinga gritted her teeth a bit before realizing this was a necessary part of her objective. “Fine. We’ll talk. Credit for all new inventions and a special thanks for everything that’s already in use. And I’ll stop riffing on your video diary.”

“Done. Wait...you riff on my video diary?”

“I’ve got a few more stops on my request for redemption, bye!” She called.

Up on the satellite the first Tom and Crow were staring at the giant bird Gypsum had just delivered courtesy of the Mads skeptically.

“You don’t think it actually worked, do you?” said Crow.

“I have my doubts,” admitted Jonah.

“If she was truly free of evil she’d you know, let us go,” said Crow.

Jonah looked at the bird some more. “Maybe...she’s not completely redeemed. But she could be on her way to be a less awful person.”

Tom hovered a bit. “I guess less awful is objectively better than completely awful,” he said.

The movie ended. And everyone assembled on the bridge. Cambot gave the signal for Jetscreen to come down.

“Hey guys,” said a familiar voice. “Merry Christmas!”

On the screen was one Mike Nelson, dressed in a blue button down and a Santa hat.

“Mike! Mike! Mike!” Servo, Crow, and even Gypsum excitedly called.

It’s so good to see you guys!”

“Hey I know those bots,” said yet another familiar voice.

“Joel!” They called.

It was merry. As the bots had their little Skype call reunion Kinga went down to the God Monitor room and looked at a certain protocol.

Robot memory deletion protocol alpha.

She wiped the program and the commands that allowed it to be run. But not before backing up the deleted memories on it. 

“Ricky!” She called.

“Yes boss?”

“Make sure Matt’s okay.”

“You told us never to acknowledge…”

“I’ve been changing my mind a lot this last hour and a half,” she said. “I think it’s time...we let him go.”

Back on the satellite the bots completed the call with gusto and a renewed sense of cheer, unaware of what Kinga was doing below.

“God bless us, everyone!” Called Waverly.

“Ugh I wanted to be the one that says it!” Whined Crow.

Kinga looked over the moonbase. The Boneheads were beginning to congregate and plan the nights festivities.

Rumors of the ability to buy things off Amazon with their own money were filling the halls, and they were buzzing with excitement.

It might have been the words to the wrong story, but somehow “Merry Christmas to All, and To All A Good Night” seemed more appropriate, as she handed Max a hastily wrapped present. A picture of the two of them from childhood. 

The end. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well technically it’s the day after Christmas, but happy holidays everyone! 
> 
> Originally I wanted to include Jonah’s brother in on the Skype call but I kind of wrote myself into a corner on the time line (if what Kinga saw was actually true, and not entirely a dream, he wouldn’t show up at Mike’s until after the experiment taping). Which I guess I still could have included because wibbly wobbly timey wimey or something to that effect, but I also wanted to finish and post this for today and stick to my self imposed deadline of “only one day late for the holiday”. Also it keeps it a bit more ambiguous over if it was all in her head or not. 
> 
> One again, Happy Holidays everyone!  
> It was kind of important that Kinga not completely be redeemed here since as she points out herself there’s only so much telling someone sorry can do. She knows she’s doomed to fail but preserves some of the status quo (read: not releasing the bots and Jonah). But she is taking some big steps foward here in fixing mistakes (or at least that’s how I hope it reads).


End file.
